


Imposter Syndrome

by ReverendKilljoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Neville Longbottom, Drama, F/F, F/M, Foot Fetish, Herbology, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Knowledge of Nepali helpful but not required, Light Bondage, Magical Creatures, Magizoologist Luna Lovegood, Mental Health Issues, Mildly Dubious Consent, Neglected Tea, Oral Sex, Pansexual Luna Lovegood, Post-Canon, Romance, St Mungo's Hospital, Totally Realistic Universe AU, Whimsy, meronaam primula, papaver Pandorae
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24239401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReverendKilljoy/pseuds/ReverendKilljoy
Summary: Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, having become lovers during their time in the DA at Hogwarts, pursue a most unconventional relationship after the War. Neville splits time between his grandmother's estate and a spartan London flat, working the swing shift at the DMLE as an Auror. Luna spends most of her time traveling the world, gathering information on the rarest of Magical Beasts, and Where to Find Them.This work is a continuation of the Neville/Luna relationship established in chapters of the related works tagged below, but should be easy to follow for those who have not (yet) read those stories.We begin as an unexpected development, resulting from their last meeting, knocks Neville for a loop...
Relationships: Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 14
Kudos: 13
Collections: Totally Realistic Universe





	1. An Unexpected Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my new collaborator and occasional muse, WaskeHD, creator of the Totally Realistic Universe AU. Without you, I should not be writing again.
> 
> Thank you also to all the fans from that community who have welcomed and supported me in my work during this difficult time.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: If you had previous read any of this work, please see that it has been reclassified as EXPLICIT due to content in later chapters. Chapters 1-5 might safely be considered "mature."
> 
> Thank you.

Neville Longbottom was just about to head home, home being his flat in the city rather than the Longbottom estate with his gran. He still technically lived with his gran, but most nights he slept in his London flat, closer to his work at the Ministry. At the moment, he was sitting in the Leaky Cauldron, enjoying a butterbeer and a sausage roll at 11:00 in the morning, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement swing shift playing hell with his schedule. If he left now, he could get his washing done, do a little reading, and still get seven or eight hours sleep before he had to be back at the Ministry.

He was just raising his hand to signal the barman, when the door opened, and a breeze carried an unmistakable scent to his nose. He was already smiling when he turned around on his barstool.

“Well, hello, love,” he called warmly.

Silhouetted in the doorway stood his sometime lover, sometime penpal, and dear friend, Luna Lovegood. She saw him, and her pale blue-grey eyes lit up.

She was wearing a man’s plaid shirt, tied under her breasts, and beige cargo shorts held up by daisy-patterned braces. She had sturdy boots on her feet, and sunburn on her face, and a mishmash of scrapes and bruises on her knees and arms. Her hair was stuffed up under a ridiculous straw hat with what appeared to be a leek in the hatband, and she had a barely-healed split lip and was carrying a parasol with tiny bells around its circumference, so that as the breeze blew past her there was a high tinkling sound.

She was the most beautiful thing Neville had ever seen.

She came to meet him as he stood, throwing her arms around his middle and pressing her face to his body. He could see very little but hat and parasol from his vantage point, but her arms around him were incredibly comforting. Normally reserved about showing much affection in public, he nevertheless savored her in his arms for a long time before letting her pull back so they could speak.

“It’s been too long,” she said. “Which is just right. I am happy to see you.”

“How was Nepal?” he asked, pulling out a stool for her and offering her a hand up. As she sat, she folded her parasol with a swishing motion, and it collapsed into her wand, which she slid into a well-used hip holster clipped to her shorts.

“It was not ideal. There were no signs at all of the Utahn Spoonbill Toad, though I did find something for you.” She began to rummage around in her bag, which based on how deeply her arm disappeared into it must have had an extension charm. She began setting odd item after item on the bar during her search. A glass jar of wine corks. A large bundle of Canadian banknotes. An avocado. A slingshot, a polished geode, and a copper hand mirror with a legend on it stating “Beware of the Leopard.” At last, she pulled out a handful of small, black seeds shaped rather like rowboats.

“These are for you, dearest.” She held them out, her sunburned face showing freckles across her nose and cheeks, her eyes soft. “They’re _meronaam_ _primula_ seeds. If you crush them under someone’s nose, they’re forced to tell you their name.”

“Really? That’s fabulous. That’ll be handy at work.” Neville carefully put them in his breast pocket.

“You could also use them at work,” she admitted. “Or if you plant them, you’ll have flowers that introduce themselves every time you water them. Won’t that be lovely?”

He laughed, and pulled her closer for a quick kiss on her cheek. She smelled a little sweaty, and earthy, but also of tea and grudyroot, her favorite scent.

“How long are you in the country?” He didn’t mean to sound too eager, as he knew how much her expeditions meant to her, but she had only been gone six weeks this time and he didn’t expect to see her so soon.

“About thirty four weeks, I should expect,” she said. She put her hand on his arm, and looked at him calmly. “I’d like a drink, please dear.”

“Of course, yes. Can I get a gillywater over here, please, with an onion?”

“Oh, no alcohol for me today,” she said. “Just water.”

Neville accepted a tall glass of water for her, and watched as she took a long sip and then carefully placed the glass on the bar. She hummed a Nepali lullaby as she began repacking her bag.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything else?” Neville asked, looking at her closely. “Something to eat? Tea? Coffee?”

“Definitely not coffee,” she said. “Too much caffeine could be very stressful for the baby.”

Neville nodded, then his nodding slowed, stopped. He sat, facing her but eyes unseeing, staring into the far distance. His mouth moved, but it was a moment before any sound came out.

“You’re… you’re having a baby?” His voice was low and filled with wonder.

She nodded. “Well, _we_ are, if we wish to be correct about it. I hope you don’t mind.” She took another long sip of water as Neville slowly grew pale, and toppled in slow motion from his barstool onto the floor.

Luna looked down at him, her head tilted to one side, her eyes sparkling under her straw hat. “Would you rather talk about this at your flat, Neville? Neville?”

He rose slowly to his knees, and raised one long arm up above the bar. His face still out of sight, his voice called out weakly as his hand waved to the barman.

“Check, please!”


	2. St. Mungo’s Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief trip to the hospital with Neville and Luna leads to an important change in their relationship.

“Okay, I need you to breathe. Come on, you remember how to breathe, yes?”

The midwife’s voice was strong, clear, and commanding despite her obvious age.

“Now, I’ve been doing this since long before you were born, and I promise you’re going to be okay. You just need to breathe, and try to relax.”

“Relax? Right, right,” muttered Neville. He looked around, and realized that he was looking up at an old woman’s face, and Luna’s too. Luna was wearing a straw hat, and appeared to be nibbling on a raw leek.

“That’s better, sonny,” the old midwife said, helping Neville sit up. He was sitting in a hospital bed, which he recognized as being in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. He had an ice bag on his head, and Luna was standing next to him, holding his hand.

“What… what happened?”

“Well, we were talking, and then you fell down,” Luna said in a matter of fact way. “You hit your head rather hard on the bar when you tried to stand up again. I couldn’t lift you, so I had you brought here.”

He rubbed his head, feeling a large knot swelling under the ice bag. He looked at the healer, a midwife named Rosemary Cheshire. She patted him comfortingly and smiled, showing a full mouth of slightly tea-stained teeth, and dimples.

“Don’t worry, sonny. 46 years a midwife, and haven’t lost a father yet.”

“Father?” Neville squeaked. He turned to Luna. “Father?”

Her eyes went even wider than usual as he started to swoon, sliding back down towards the pillow.

“Whoops! There he goes again…” Rosemary said, grabbing a cool cloth to add to his forehead.

Luna took another nibble at the corner of her leek, and held onto Neville’s arm possessively. “I’m afraid we may be here a while,” she said.

Later, Neville was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking for his shoes. His head still ached, but he no longer seemed inclined to pass out. He did still look rather peaky, however, and had been advised to have something with some iron and protein in it for his supper later.

Luna sat across from him in a chair, slowly fanning herself with her straw hat and sipping from a tumbler of water. There was now a partially-consumed fresh leek in her hatband, he noticed.

“What I still don’t understand,” Neville said slowly, “is how I woke up in the maternity wing?”

“Well, you see, that may be my fault.” Luna smiled at him sadly. “I’m afraid I may not have been too clear on the nature of the problem when the emergency healers arrived. There was some confusion.”

“I can imagine.” Neville looked around again. “Have you, er, have you seen my shoes?”

“Oh, I sent those along home for you,” Luna said. “Mine as well. I hope you don’t mind. I thought a barefoot walk would do us some good, before I took you home.”

Sure enough, she had bare feet as well. Her feet were as tanned as her legs and arms, he saw, but she still wore her favorite, magically swirling polish on each toenail. He smiled despite himself.

“That was thoughtful,” he told her, slowly rising and checking himself before offering her a hand. “Shall we go?”

She took his hand, and they walked slowly out the door. The reached the main stairwell and he was about to start down.

“Don’t you want to see your parents?” She asked him softly.

He looked at her quickly, and the room spun a bit as he held the handrail for balance.

“We don’t have to,” he said.

She took him gently and turned him around by the hand, and they climbed the stairs to the next floor. She held on to him tightly as they walked the path she well remembered, to the ward where Neville’s parents had lived since the days of Voldemort’s first reign of terror.

Neville’s father was sitting up today, a bright blue handkerchief in his hands. He would look at it, then suddenly begin twisting and twisting it around, then just as suddenly he would stop, pulling on it with all his strength. Then, totally calm, he would smooth it out on his lap, carefully unfolding each twist until it lay flat. After a few minutes, his face would shift, his placid demeanor changing to agitated confusion, and he would seize the cloth and begin twisting again.

Neville’s mother was standing by the open window today, her eyes closed, with the sun shining on her face. She looked tranquil, almost happy. When Neville carefully approached her, she turned towards the sound of him but did not open her eyes.

“Sunny today,” she said softly but clearly.

“Yes, Mum,” Neville replied. “I’ve brought Luna to see you. Remember Luna? She’s come with me before.”

His mother eyes still closed, turned back towards the window and the sunshine, her smile radiant as ever he could recall. Neville smiled and turned to Luna.

“Neville!” Luna cried, lunging forward.

He spun, just in time to see his mother pull her arms tight against her body and leap towards the open window. He spread his arms wide and bent low behind her, waiting.

His mother hit the magical barrier protecting the open window, and fell back into Neville’s arms. She was soundless, and still, her eyes now wide and solemn, looking still towards the window, and Neville straightened with the frail woman in his arms.

“It’s okay, Mum,” he said gently. “I’ve got you. Everything’s fine, I promise.”

He laid her on her bed, across from her husband, who had not looked up from processing his handkerchief. She looked at Neville, and grabbed his hand. He accepted the small slip of paper she pressed into his hand.

He turned, and Luna was leaning on the window frame, breathing deeply. He rushed to her. “Are you okay? Should I call someone?”

“She just gave me a turn,” Luna said quietly, calming her breathing. “I thought I had gotten used to that.”

He pulled out a chair for her. She sat with care, but not great concern, and waved away his further offers of help. “Really, Neville. I am quite well.”

His face paled and his eyes went wide. His voice came out in an urgent whisper. “Your condition!”

“Neville,” she scolded him gently, “I’m barely seven weeks along, according to the brahman who tested me. I just thought you should know. I plan on going back out on expedition until at least the end of my second trimester.”

He sank to his knees in from of her. “Do you have to? I mean, maybe this would be a good time to spend some time back in Britain… with me.”

She looked down, and for the first time he could recall, she seemed reluctant to meet his eyes. “That’s not the only thing.”

“What is it, love? You know you can tell me anything.”

“This is rather awkward, you see. There, well…” She looked up, and her voice was barely audible. “There’s someone else.”

He didn’t react, at first, the reassuring smile still hanging on his face. Then, as his face fell into an unreadable expression, he slowly rose, towering above her for a moment. He turned, and moved to his father’s bed. He kissed his father on the head, briefly, almost mechanically. Frank Longbottom pulled away, smoothing and smoothing the handkerchief in his lap.

“Neville?” Luna’s voice was breaking, barely audible, as he crossed to his mother.

“So long, Mother,” he said quietly as she turned away, hiding her face from him. “I’ll be back again soon.”

He looked at the gum wrapper she had pressed into his hand, and without conscious decision, he crushed it in his fist, and let it fall into the wastepaper basket by her bed. Without looking back, nor answering Luna’s calls, he walked out of the ward, down the stairs and into the street. Once he was outside, he took a deep, shuddering breath, set his shoulders and disapparated.

Watching him from the window high above, Luna Lovegood, hat in her hands, felt tears on her sunburned cheeks. She reached into the wastepaper basket, and retrieved the crumpled paper. Carefully smoothing it out, she placed it safely in her bag.

“I’m sorry, Alice,” she said to Neville’s mother. She turned. “Goodbye, Frank. Be well.”

When she reached the street, she did not apparate away. Instead, she looked at the sky, got her bearings, and began walking. The stones and pavements of London, baked by the late afternoon summer sun, hurt her feet. She kept walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want my readers to think I am setting them up for nothing but betrayal and heartache. I'm not above doing that of course, but that's not what this story is about. 
> 
> Having said that, as my good friend likes to say, "A little sweet with the bitter, a little bitter with the sweet."
> 
> All is not lost. Be of stout heart and good thoughts, dear readers.


	3. The Overdue Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Augusta. Augusta Longbottom. Augusta Idalia Longbottom. The name has a certain rolling grandeur, like a vintage Edwardian locomotive pulling a train of exquisite, antique dining cars, down an embankment into a brush fire.
> 
> Neville has a talk with his gran.

Neville was in his boyhood room at his grandmother’s house. He used to think of it as just “his room,” but coming back and seeing it with fresh eyes, he realized it was still the room of a boy. The poster on the wall, filled with ripening mandrakes, peeking up every time his back was turned and plunging their little faces back into the soil each time he looked at them. The pictures of his mother and father, smiling quietly, holding a wriggling bundle which must have been Neville himself.

The Gryffindor house colors on every blanket, pillow, carpet, and drape, as if proclaiming that the Sorting Hat did not make mistakes and that Neville was a true Gryffindor, not an accident or just a legacy. It all seemed so desperate and insecure now.

Neville was bent over, buried waist-deep in his wardrobe when his grandmother made herself known. Augusta Longbottom had many virtues, and many flaws, but her volume and clarity of speech belonged on both lists.

“Neville? What are you doing, boy?”

“Hullo, Gran,” he called back, still digging. One small brown shoe, and one slightly larger black one, flew back a few feet from the wardrobe as Neville muttered to himself. His large, bare feet protruded back into his room and were smudged with dirt.

“Oh, come out of there,” Augusta said irritably, crossing to his desk chair and perching carefully upon it. She was grand and dignified in the oldest traditions of the wizarding world, but too many times over the years she had sat down in Neville’s presence only to find herself sitting upon his wand, his toad, or his latest herbology investigation. “Look at the state of your feet!”

Neville back out of the wardrobe, carrying two large shoes. He had finally found two that were the correct size, and for opposite feet, but one was shiny black, the other a scuffed brown. He sighed and moved to his bed, where he began wrestling the shoes onto his feet.

“Where are your socks? What are you…” Augusta stopped, and said in a voice that brooked no dispute, “Talk to me, Neville.”

“Yes, Gran.” He put his feet down, shoes still untied, but he had trouble meeting her gaze. It had been some time since her grandson had been so flustered and dissembling. “I’m sorry.”

She wished that she could reach out, put her arm around the boy, and ask him about his troubles. Unfortunately she was not that kind of grandmother. She never had been and it seemed far too late to start now. Instead, she sat primly in her seat and spoke with firm tones.

“I did not expect you today. I have told you this is your home, and you are always welcome. So what has brought you here, and in this state?”

“Luna is back,” he said with surprising misery. “She met me at the _Cauldron_.”

“I see. I was under the impression that you and she are quite fond of one another. Has something changed of which I am unaware?”

He hung his head. “She wasn’t supposed to be back for another six weeks, Gran. But she apparently had some news for me.” He stopped, unable or unwilling to elaborate. It was like pulling teeth with this generation.

“And this relates to your miserable demeanor and the shocking state of your feet how?”

He fidgeted, and said finally, “Well, we had to go to St. Mungo’s to see a midwife, and Luna sent my shoes to my flat, and I know she’ll look for me there next, and… and…”

Suddenly the lad, she would always think of him as a lad, no matter how tall he became, the lad was on his knees, hugging her legs and sobbing.

“She said she had something to tell me,” he sobbed, “How could this happen, Gran? Oh, how could this ever have happened.”

He hurried his face in her lap, and she awkwardly patted at his hair as though he was one of her prizewinning crups, back in her showing days. “There, there,” she said awkwardly.

_A midwife and St. Mungo’s, eh?_ She thought. _I just assumed… What did they teach him at that school? Very well._

Augusta looked away from the brokenhearted youth at her feet, her eyes catching a few cheeky mandrakes peering at her, which she dispatched with a single glare. How to put this delicately?

“Well, Neville, it’s something like this.” She paused, gathering her thoughts, and proceeded carefully. “When a young wizard and a young witch love one another very much…”

Neville, lost in his own misery, realized that his gran was talking to him, and he struggled to understand what she was saying.

“So you see, if the wizard’s wand, er, deposits his sickles into the witch’s coin purse, so to speak…” She looked down, suddenly aware that he had grown silent. Silent, and red as a plum tomato. “Well, that’s where baby witches and wizards come from, you see?”

He backed away, scrabbling, crab-walking on his hands back to the center of the room, his face twisted with horror. “Gran, no! _Morgan H. LeFey_ , no!”

She colored, and cleared her throat. She told him with asperity, “Well, I may have glossed over some of the finer points, but I doubt they’ve improved the process much since my day!”

“I know about that, Gran, thank you,” he gasped.

“Then what is the trouble, boy?” She stood, towering over him as she had used to do, as he sat back looking up at her from the floor.

“She says there’s someone else!” He clapped his hand over his mouth as if giving voice to his pain had made it somehow even more real.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Augusta said, hands upon her thin hips. She looked down at her grandson, at her strong, fine, brave boy, who had made her so proud, and she realized what he had said, and what her response had been.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “Would… would you like a cup of tea?”

He looked at her, mouth agape, and then thought for a moment. He closed his mouth and pulled himself to his misshod feet. He shrugged.

“Yes, please, Gran. That would be lovely.”


	4. The Journey of a Thousand Miles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna reflects on her expedition to Nepal in search of the elusive Utahn Spoonbill Toad, and changes the nature of her relationship with noted Magizoologist Professor Rolf Scamander.

Luna Lovegood had awoken on her last day in Nepal with a strange feeling.

Luna was no stranger to strange feelings. In fact, much of her success in life had been directly connected to her ability to not ignore those little voices that whispered in her ear that she was in the presence of something unusual. Her friendship with Harry Potter, the curious nature that had guided her into the Hogwarts house of Ravenclaw, her relationship with Neville Longbottom, even her recently published theory of the seven uses of faeries’ laughter, all had started with the observation that Something Was Not Right.

This morning, it would be easy to attribute the feeling _Nirādhāra samaya_ , as the Nepali witches she was working with called it, _an_ _unsettling time,_ to the tiny spark of life which had kindled in her womb. It had been three days since a Brahman had confirmed for her that something was indeed Underway Within. She supposed sharing her body with another, future person would be a great adventure with many unexpected aspects, but that was not what she was discomfited by this morning.

No, the strange feeling that nagged at her as she prepared to leave camp had nothing to do with what was happening in her uterus. She finally realized that it had to do with the cot that occupied the other side of the tent from hers.

Professor Rolf Scamander. Luna shook her head. Of course, what had she been thinking?

She went outside, and found her expedition partner, Rolf Scamander, seated on a large stone, making careful adjustments to one of his prototype Utahn Spoonbill Toad calls. He smiled when she emerged, flashing a lopsided grin and shaking the hair out of his eyes. Witches, Luna observed, would find his combination of deep blue eyes, shiny hair, a slim build, and handsome features very, very attractive.

Luna was a witch.

“Good morning, Miss Lovegood!” Scamander was always very formal and courteous. Whether they were discussing possible mating sites for the Utahn Spoonbill, or debating the proper credit for the discovery of the brinded wampus cat, he was always mindful of good manners. In fact, when they had recently attempted to divine the presence of Spoonbills, by lying nude in a gently flowing Himalayan stream and observing the stars in their procession, he had been the one with forethought to bring towels. He was, in short, an ideal traveling companion who brought nothing but positive qualities to their most recent joint expedition.

“Good morning, Professor Scamander.” Though Rolf was technically a lecturer at two different institutions, including the Edinburgh Society for Magizoology (Department of Thaumaturgical Cryptids), he was always telling her that he considered her own accomplishments to be equal in every meaningful way to his own and requested that either he be allowed to call her “Professor Lovegood,” or that she refer to him as Mr. Scamander. So far, this remained a point of friendly contention between them.

“I believe the stream experiment has been good for your complexion, Miss Lovegood. You appear positively radiant this morning.”

He, like Luna was able to look past the myriad bruises and scrapes accrued when tracked about the Himalayan range in short pants, and the perpetual sunburn that had begun to freckle her nose and cheeks since they arrived. She appreciated that he saw her as she was, rather than how she seemed. It was comforting.

“Professor, there is something I believe we need to discuss today,” she began. She found herself suddenly reluctant to continue and allowed his enthusiasm to carry the conversation for a moment.

“Excellent, but just listen to this, would you?” He closed his eyes, placed his Spoonbill call between his lips, and stuck his fingers in his ears precisely. He blew a deep breath into the call, and a swelling sound grew around them both.

“Whup. Whuuuup. WHUP. WHUUUUP. Whup-whup.” He opened his eyes, and pulled his fingers from his ears. So eager was he to speak that he forgot to remove the call from between his lips and he was forced to catch it as he asked her, excitedly, “Wasn’t that remarkable? Doesn’t it sound exactly as we expect a Utahn Spoonbill Toad to sound?”

She smiled, feeling the sunburn pulling tight across her cheeks.

“If I knew what a Spoonbill Toad sounded like,” she replied positively, “I could not be more certain. Well done, Professor.”

He laughed, a loud, clear, delightful sound, and briefly hugged her. It was not the first time they had embraced, as their working relationship was both very close and based on a great deal of personal professional admiration. This time, however, Luna noticed it in a way she had not previously.

“Please, Professor. Rolf. We need to talk.” She sat down on the stone, next to the spot he had just vacated. Frowning, he sat beside her.

“Those are not words one typically wishes to hear in that tone,” he noted. “I hope that I’ve done nothing to upset you?”

She sighed. “Just the opposite. I find that you are a superb and professional magizoologist, perhaps the greatest living.” She waved away his protestations.

“Please, Rolf,” she said, his given name tasting strange on her tongue. “This will go ever so much faster if you just hear me out.”

He frowned more deeply, his eyebrows creasing in concern, making him if anything even more pleasing, his obvious and open concern radiating empathy. “Please, er, Luna, go on.”

“You are a supportive and open friend, an honest and respectful professional colleague, and the best possible traveling companion, skilled in your preparation and generous with your time and knowledge.”

She squared her shoulders.

“I am very much afraid that our relationship is going to change, and I am honestly unsure if we will be able to work together afterwards.”

He listened respectfully for a moment to be sure that she had reached a caesura, then he said carefully, “Luna. Miss Lovegood. I would not wish for anything to come between us. I hold you in the highest regard, and the unanticipated thought of further expeditions without you fills me with a sense of profound sadness. Could you share with me, what is it that makes you believe that we will be unable to pursue our studies together?”

She realized that one hand had come to rest low on her belly as if subconsciously protecting her core from injury, even if it was only of the emotional variety.

“This is rather awkward, you see. There, well…” She looked up, and her voice was barely audible. “There’s someone else.”

His eyes followed hers, to where her hand was resting. His eyebrows rose, his face almost comically surprised.

“But Luna, this is wonderful news! You and your fellow, your Mr. Longbottom, surely he will be as thrilled as I to hear of this?” His reaction was all Luna could have hoped for. The _Nirādhāra samaya_ was dissipating with a palpable release of pressure between her shoulder blades.

“You won’t be upset, that I need to take a break from our travels?” Her relief was liberating. She felt the suggestion of a smile reaching for her lips.

“Of course not,” he said. “Dear Miss Lovegood, I consider you my partner, and if I may be so bold, my closest friend. Whether your sabbatical from our fieldwork is on the order of forty weeks, or of forty years, I am confident that we will have a great many discoveries ahead of us, none of which would matter in the slightest if they prevented you from exploring the great discovery ahead of you and Mr. Longbottom at this time. I ask only one thing of you, before you leave this expedition, if I may be so bold?”

She smiled joyfully, and took his hands in hers, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Yes, Professor Scamander?” Her lips parted slightly as she hung with excitement on his response.

“I ask only that when you break this most exciting news to your beloved, that you remind him that while he is the only man in your heart, he is not the only one with a call on your time. I expect that within the boundaries of parenthood and its attendant obligations, we shall remain colleagues, friends, and someday again, explorers. I should be most disappointed if this were the final chapter of our collaboration.” He was blushing, furiously, having declared aloud his deepest desire, to make great discoveries in her company.

She released his hands and picked up the Spoonbill call which had fallen to the ground during the previous excitement.

“Such a shame, really. I’m certain no Utahn Spoonbill Toad could resist this call, Professor Scamander.” She stood, and asked gently, “Do you think you could be so kind as to accompany me side-along to the village? I wish to travel by floo back to Britain as soon as possible, but I find myself somewhat too emotional to apparate to the village at present.”

He stood, and nodded vigorously. “An abundance of caution, Miss Lovegood. As ever I rely upon your instincts and will be happy to accommodate you.”

“One more thing, if you will indulge me,” she said gently. She took the Spoonbill call, placed it between her lips, put her fingers firmly into her ears and sounded the call.

“Whup. Whuuuup. WHUP. WHUUUUP. Whup-whup.”

She offered Professor Scamander the call, and he gallantly said, “Please do keep it. It shall remind you of our work, and occupy me in constructing another as I adjust to once again working alone.”

She placed it in her bag, and offered her arm.

He nodded, took her arm carefully, and with a distinctly muffled pop in the thin air of their Himalayan camp, they disapperated. All was quiet, and the morning sun struggled higher over the surrounding peaks. As its rays hit the rocks surrounding the camp, a soft chorus of sounds could be heard. First from one rock cluster, then another, the sound murmured and swelled, growing to a fabulous chorus.

_“Whup. Whup. Whup. Whuuuup. Whuuuup. WHUP-WHUP. WHUUUUP. Whup-whup.”_

Two days later and on the other side of the world, Luna Lovegood now sat, tired, and a bit sad, on the doorstep of Neville Longbottom. She had knocked, but he was presently not at home. The street outside was dark but for the orange glow of the sodium street lamps. She that hoped he’d be along soon. It had taken her a great deal of the day to walk across London to his door, and she had been sitting, hoping for him to return, for several hours. In her hands, she toyed with a call for the Utahn Spoonbill Toad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does Luna talk like this in this chapter? Well, Luna is highly observant, and Professor Scamander, like all of his family going way back, has a sort of timelessly genteel manner, combined with an atypical expression of his masculinity (Especially considering his movie-star good looks...) which frees him to express himself graciously without being a total twat-waffle. 
> 
> Luna, as his dear friend, unconsciously mirrors this when they work together for long periods.
> 
> Plus, it's fun.


	5. A Single Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville returns to his flat, and has an overdue conversation with Luna.  
> Warning: contains explicit scenes of dubiously consensual foot-washing (at first).

As did most Aurors for reasons of security, Neville Longbottom had magical safeguards in place against any person, even himself, apparating directly inside his flat. It was for this reason that, in the late hours of the night, Neville found himself wearily climbing the three flights of stairs towards home. There was a lift, but something about his fatigue and his magic caused it to freeze up about a third of the time, and he was too tired to spend another night waiting for rescue from his own block of flats. After the day he’d had, he’d managed to beg off work for the night, and was anxious to just get home to his bed.

When he rounded the corner, his hand went immediately to his wand. Professional reflex soon gave way to anger and confusion, however, when he determined that the witch waiting for him was not a direct threat. Luna Lovegood was lying, barefoot, scraped, and sunburned still, next to his door. She was snoring slightly, a soft, purring noise that tore at his heart.

Neville knew that he had reacted poorly to her hurtful news earlier. His childish loss of composure in front of his grandmother had proven that to him, if any proof were needed. No matter how upset, how betrayed and devastated he had been to hear the woman he loved inform him that there was someone else, Neville at heart was loyal, and brave, and not a man who would leave a witch lying on the floor in the night.

When he knelt and tried to wake her, she lifted her arms around his neck, pulling him close to her, without waking. Trying to force the image of her thus embracing another from his mind, he lifted her in his arms and took her inside. She really was very small, compared to him. Not physically fragile, but even in sleep there was something of Luna’s dreamlike disconnect from the everyday world that made her seem unnaturally light in his arms.

His first thought was to lay her down on his sofa, but he knew that it was ideal for occasionally sitting, but unsuited for a comfortable lie down, being rather more stylish than functional, a product of his attempt to show maturity and independence when originally purchasing items for his flat. His bed, however, was rather similar to the four-poster he’d enjoyed at Hogwarts, or his family bed at his grandmother’s, only larger and longer to better accommodate his height.

He lay her down on his bed, and carefully removed her hat and her bag. He placed her wand on the bedside table in its usual place. He was about to cover her with a light blanket, when he saw the state of her feet.

It was not unusual for Luna to have dirty feet, as she firmly believed that walking and exploring with her feet in direct contact with the earth benefited her understanding of her surroundings. Of course, it may also have been her rationalizing her habit, picked up over years of classmates hiding her shoes while at Hogwarts. Still, she was adapt at cleansing charms, and would not have chose to lay on their–on his–bed with her feet in their current state.

Neville considered a simple cleansing charm of his own, as he was tired, and felt the call of sleep himself. Still, there seemed something cool, something too distant in using magic that way. Shaking his head at his own sentiment, he summoned a cloth, soap, and a basin of warm water as he stripped to his shorts and vest.

Taking one of her small feet in his large hand, he began to carefully wash her, letting the soap and water carry away the grey London grime, to reveal the toughened but freshly pale skin beneath. He found himself focused so fully on the care with which he was cleaning, that he did not realize that she had awoken.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” Her voice was soft, a bit melancholy.

“I know I don’t,” he said, laying her foot down without looking up at her, but then picking up her other foot to finish the process.

Neither said anything, as his hands ran the cloth, the soap, and his bare fingers across the flesh of her foot. The dirt of the city came away, and his strong fingers on her foot caused her to moan, very softly, and flex her toes. Neville knew that her feet were clean now, certainly clean enough for him to stop, yet he continued, feeling his thumbs pressing into the tensest spots, feeling the physical connection between Luna and himself. After a time, he lay her foot down, and finally looked up at her.

She was regarding him calmly, her pale eyes wide in the dimly lit bedroom. Her lower lip was caught just slightly between her teeth on one side, a look that usually signaled her desire for him. When he finally brought himself to speak, she spoke as well, their words, tumbling over each other.

“I’m sorry—” he began.

“Forgive me—” she implored.

They both sat silently for a moment, and she laid her hand on him gently.

“Please forgive me, Neville. It’s been a very emotional few days, and I realize that I put things badly.”

“I’m sorry, Luna.” He hung his head. “This thing between us, ever since it started, really. I’ve just felt so lucky, so sure that at any moment, you’d realize that it was all some huge mistake. I know I don’t deserve someone like you, and that—”

Again, she interrupted him.

“You don’t understand. I’m used to people not understanding things I say, but this is important.” She shook her head, frustrated in a way he couldn’t recall ever seeing her before. “I need for you to understand me.”

“Okay, I’ll do my best. I’m listening.” He squared his shoulder and sat up, as best he could. This just made Luna seem even more small and insubstantial. He laid a hand over hers, and waited.

“I’m going to have a child, Neville,” she began slowly. “Ours, of course. There’s never been anyone else.”

He thought back to her earlier confession that there _was_ someone else, but he clenched his jaw and let her speak.

“I very much want you to be in her life, and in mine. You’re the only man I’ve ever really loved, Neville Evelyn Longbottom. I hope you believe that.”

It was too much. He said carefully, “But at the hospital, when you said…”

“Yes, I see now how that went wrong,” she sighed, bitterly. She was not one, in his experience, to dwell on regrets, and the tone was incongruous, almost shocking.

“You see,” she said at last, “many young people in our position, wizards and witches I’ve known, I mean, take this sort of a thing as a sign. They settle down, raise their families, buy houses, go to dinner parties with other people their ages, and de-gnome their gardens on the weekend.”

He had to smile at her idea of domestic life. “And is that so terrible?”

She looked away, distressed. “It’s about Professor Scamander, you see.”

Neville’s hand tightened on hers involuntarily, and he pulled back from her in embarrassment. She captured his hand in hers, however, and held him tightly.

“I’ve promised him that this won’t be the end of my expeditions. Having our child is the most unexpected, wonderful thing that ever might happen to me. But Neville, I have to be true to myself. I’m going to go out again, when it’s time, and continue my work. Professor Scamander, Rolf, he’s not just a a co-worker. He’s a true colleague, someone who understands and believes in my work.”

Neville asked, dreading the answer, “So, you’d rather be with him?”

She shook her head, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“I want to _work_ with him, and you and I must find a way for that to work out, because I only want to _be_ with you, to _love_ you, to raise our daughter with you.”

He blinked rapidly, taking this all in.

“D-Daughter?” He stammered. “Are you, are you certain?”

She thought for a moment. “It’s an instinct. But she feels like a daughter, so far.”

She took his hand, and placed it below her navel, firmly against her body.

“You can’t really feel anything yet of course,” she said in something much closer to her usual tone, “unless you were to be inside with us, I mean. You may just have to take that step, and trust me.”

“I do,” he said solemnly. “I do trust you, and I’m sorry for ever doubting. I love you, you know. Rathera lot.”

After several rounds of forgiving and renewed apologizing on each side, they found themselves in bed together, the lights out, with Luna’s head tucked into his chest, her pale hair fanned across his body, and the smell of her in his nose. His arm was around her, and he was feeling every effect of his very long day.

The day had begun with a full shift at work, then an emotional jolt at the pub, followed by a trip to hospital and more emotional gyrations, then to his gran’s for a horribly messy catharsis, not to mention a truly traumatic version of The Talk, and at last home to Luna and something like a resolution. He had forgotten to ask Luna about the location of their shoes. It could wait. His eyes were dragging themselves closed when a small, soft voice reached his ears as Luna’s words buzzed softly against his chest.

“I know it was only six weeks this time,” she mused softly, “but I’ve missed you rather a lot. Also, there may be something to this notion I’ve been told about, with the hormones? I know you’ve had a long day, but I was wondering, perhaps…”

Her hand trailed lower, through the dark, wiry hair of his chest, her fingertips dragging along towards his navel, and farther. “I’d understand if you were too tired.”

His eyes flew open, and he was, every part of him, suddenly very much awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the first clear signals that Neville struggles with Imposter Syndrome. This will figure in to the narrative further if I decide to continue this story.


	6. And What Shall We Do After?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: In case you missed the change in rating, this chapter is Explicit. I'm sorry if that disappoints you, but it's where the characters took me today. 
> 
> After spending an evening of implied passion, Luna and Neville find themselves spending a day... well, of less implied and more explicit passion.

The following morning, Luna walked from the bedroom into the living room of Neville’s London flat, and took a seat on his sofa. She yawned, and her arms stretched high above her head. She held the pose, twisting slightly to and fro, releasing any tension which had formed during the night in her shoulders, and then she relaxed. She ran a hand through her hair somewhat unsuccessfully, as it was rather a mess of wild tangles. She took a few deep breaths.

She looked at Neville, who was sitting in his chair, the Daily Prophet in one hand, a piece of wheat toast with butter in the other. He was motionless, his toast halfway to his open mouth, and he was staring at her with eyes opened very wide.

“Good morning, dearest Neville,” she said dreamily. After a moment, she realized that he had neither moved nor replied, so she stood and moved before him, stopping when they were toe to toe. She noticed that in addition to a loosely tied robe, he had put on fuzzy slippers. His hair was brushed, and he was looking very dapper. Unlike her, he was clearly ready to start his day.

“Aren’t you going to say good morning?” She tilted her head to one side, and watched curiously as a small dollop of melting butter fell from his toast, and landed between the open sides of his robe, clinging to the curly dark hair that reached from his chest to his navel, where she fondly remembered that it condensed into a happy little line, a trail that could be followed lower, where—

“You, you’re, you’re naked,” he finally managed to say, his tone somewhere towards the panicked end of surprised. After the previous night, he was surprised that he could be surprised ather, or any part of her so soon, but he had to expected to view her, so completely, before he’d at least had breakfast.

“Yes,” she said, as she carefully pushed his newspaper aside, and straddled his long legs, coming to rest with her bum on his thighs and her hands on his shoulders. He was so tall he was very nearly eye to eye with her even when she was mounting him this way. “I am nude, that’s true. I was hoping that you might notice.”

“Good morning, Luna,” he said appreciatively, the newspaper falling from his hands as she leaned forward and took a generous bite of his toast, her small, white teeth tearing the brown bread from his fingertips, her pale, pink lips closing over them as she chewed, and finally the delicate, agile tip of her tongue collecting any traces of butter from her lips.

“I do like it when I have your attention, dear,” she said softly. One thing that he had learned about Luna Lovegood over the last four years was that she was never coy or teasing. When she wanted something, she was as direct as the day she had first whispered into his ear, in the greenhouse at Hogwarts, the words that had changed their relationship forever: “ _Fancy a shag?_ ”

He could still recall the exact moment the words had penetrated his adolescent brain. The rest of that evening, the first time for each of them, and then a more accomplished and enthusiastic second time, were somewhat less clear but no less treasured memories.

He fed her the last bite of toast, and she chased it down with the dollop of butter she pulled from off of his chest with her fingertip, sucking her finger clean as a small, animal sound forced its way between Neville’s lips. He reached around her, one hand landing on her firm bum, the other massaging the small of her back, feeling each vertebrae and the surrounding muscles under his fingertips.

“You have my complete attention, love,” he said earnestly.

“Do you have to go in to work this morning?” Her voice was calm, but she had started doing something with her hips against him, some kind of witchcraft that he was sure was not on the curriculum at Hogwarts. He moaned softly, and shook his head, not trusting himself to answer her in words for a moment. At last, he found the power of speech once more.

“No. I’ve begged off for a few days, at least. I thought we needed time just for us.”

She smiled. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Most people aren’t as considerate as you are, you know. I think they’re missing out.” She leaned in, and kissed him firmly but affectionately.

“I used to miss out on a lot of things, before I met you,” he said. “I hope we’re done on missing out on things with each other, at least for a long while.”

He carefully stood up, his hands coming underneath to support her against his body. She was suddenly much taller, looking down on the flat, and she could feel that his robe had opened when he stood, as well.

“Well, that is _very_ flattering,” she said happily. “There’s nothing so honest in the world as a hard cock, is there?”

He laughed, and gently guided their enjoined bodies back to the bedroom.

“So, I’ve been thinking about what we might get up to together today,” he said, mostly failing at sounding conversational.

He lay her down, and as she relaxed back into the bed her legs stayed open to him. Her arms reached around his neck and pulled him down and into her. She pushed the robe from his shoulders and it soon fell aside, leaving his long, surprisingly lean body against hers. The soft nest of fur on his chest tickled her nipples into firm, eager nubs.

“And what,” she hesitated, her eyes rolling slightly as he entered her. “Oh, my. What were you thinking we might get up to?”

“Well,” he said, feeling her body yielding to his as they came together, “ _Fancy a shag?_ ”

When she laughed, a high, musical laugh, her body gripped him more tightly, and he gasped against her before he caught his breath. He reverently kissed the spot where her neck joined into her shoulder, his tongue tasting the slightly salty flesh.

“But what shall we do after?” She reached up, and her mouth fastened on his shoulder. One hand reached down between them, and she found the spot she was searching for. As she touched herself, and he began to move within her, she bit his shoulder, perhaps harder than she had intended. She was very happy that her boyfriend was a large, sturdy sort. Physically he was strong and tough, but within he was so delightfully playful and loving as well. But for now, she wanted to get somewhat more from the fact that he was large, and sturdy.

Several hours later, Luna was lying, gloriously spent, across Neville’s bed. She was wriggling her toes gently where her feet barely reached one side of the bed, and her head was hanging, upside down, from the opposite. She watched Neville, still nude and covered with a number of incidental scratches and bite marks, walking towards her carrying two cups of tea. From her vantage point, he seemed to be walking on the ceiling, with two upside down cups spilling their steam towards the floor, and his rather noble penis was gently swaying towards the sky. She laughed, and beckoned him closer, reaching out for his hips as he came nearer.

“What are you doing, dar—Oh!” He very nearly dropped two cups of hot, restorative tea as she took him in her mouth, still hanging off the edge of his bed.

He looked at his wand, just out of reach on the bedside table, and then back to the teacups in his hands, and back to the table again, trying to work out how to set them down without interrupting the delightful feeling of his unexpected welcome back to the bedroom. He felt himself growing hard in her mouth almost immediately, and was honestly surprised at his capacity, considering both his morning and the previous evening.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, letting the teacups fall to the area rug around his bed. They spilled, but thankfully did not break. He reached out, and used his now free hands to stimulate the two pale, perfect breasts which were shimmying slightly before him along with Luna’s actions. He tried to move her up, so that he could lie beside her and might reciprocate her attentions, but she seemed resolute in her focused attention. She smacked his hands away, before reaching her own hands around him to clasp his clenching buttocks. She grabbed him firmly and urged him forward, deeper into her mouth, until he was rocking his hips back and forth and a rhythmic sound could be heard deep in Luna’s throat.

Perhaps because of their previous relations recently, he lasted far longer than he might otherwise have. Still, with what Luna was doing, with a certain singleminded enthusiasm that he could not help but admire, he found himself rapidly reaching towards both an emotional and a literal climax.

“I’m nearly, Luna, darling, I’m nearly…” He lost his ability to speak coherently, his eyes rolling and his body shuddering violently.

Luna started a deep humming sound, a buzzing stimulation against him that was past any tolerance. He released, feeling wave after wave, almost painful in their intensity, deep inside her throat, as she swallowed around him. As the feeling finally abated, he sank to his knees, and Luna rolled over, licking her lips with incongruous delicateness, and she smile at him proudly.

“I rather liked that, as a change of pace, you understand,” she said, her voice somewhat hoarse from the abuse she had endured during her efforts. She was astonishingly sexy, the primal, physical act juxtaposed with the innocent, almost naive nature of her calm observation.

Neville panted, eyes wide, looking at her in all of her radiant beauty, as he struggled to find the right thing to say, the words that would capture his love, his desire, his reverence for the amazing woman grinning before him. He took her face in his trembling hands, and spoke.

“I’m kneeling in spilt tea,” he said.


	7. Two for Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luna arranges a visit with a dear friend from Hogwarts, with the support of Neville, and they share a confidence. Neville returns from work and is surprised.

**Chapter 7**

**Two for tea**

Ginny Weasley was sitting on Neville’s sofa, watching Luna, wrapped in a wraparound garment in bright yellow with pale silver threads running through it, pouring tea as she sat in lotus-position across from her. The rich, red tea steamed, and Luna propelled the cup and saucer into Ginny’s hand with a casual gesture of her wand. The blonde girl seemed as relaxed and as at peace as Ginny could recall seeing her.

“Thank you for coming over,” Luna said, taking a sip of her own tea. She didn’t add anything to her thanks, she just sat calmly, enjoying the silence. Ginny waited for her to say more, but Luna just smiled and sipped her tea.

“It’s been too long. What, a year?” Ginny asked. Luna didn’t follow Quidditch, and Ginny had not paid too much attention to Luna’s comings and goings, so she’d been surprised to see Neville’s owl at her window, bearing Luna’s sudden invitation to tea. “I didn’t even know you were back in the country.”

“It was rather unexpected,” Luna said. “I’m sorry Neville isn’t here to see you, but I’m afraid he’s missed rather a lot of work the last few days, since my return.”

“I can imagine he’s very glad to see you,” Ginny said politely. The big Auror’s adoration for Luna was well-known among his friends, and even after Luna had begun her frequent travels, Longbottom was always clearly distracted when his girlfriend was in town. Ginny recalled when her own girlfriend had been so distractible, but it seemed an uncomfortably long time ago.

“Oh, yes.” Luna’s smile was dreamy, and she had a faraway look in her eyes that Ginny found some small reason to envy.

“I have to hand it to you, I can see you’re very happy to be back with him. I’m afraid my own long-distance relationship is rather complicated at present, so I’m glad to see you doing so well.” ‘Complicated’ was actually a generous evaluation of her current situation.

“Well, I know that he cares for me very much. It’s quite lovely, really.” Luna sipped her tea, and set the cup down before adding with satisfaction, “And it certainly has improved all of the sex.”

Ginny found herself caught with a mouthful of red herbal tea, torn between inhaling it in surprise or spraying it out in shock. She wavered for a moment, before finally swallowing it painfully, and gasping, “P-Pardon?”

“All of the sex,” Luna repeated cheerfully, refilling her cup. “He’s been so enthusiastic. It’s very flattering.”

Ginny’s face coloured and she mimed a fanning motion in front of her face. 

“You always can surprise me, Luna. I, er, I’m glad you two are still enjoying each other’s company. It isn’t every relationship that burns so brightly even after so much time apart.”

“I do worry, though,” Luna confided, softly. “Is it really me that he enjoys so much, or what I’ve learned on my expeditions?”

Thinking of Luna’s various attempts to catalog wrackspurts, nargles, and the elusive Utahn Spoonbill Toad, Ginny said reassuringly, “I think he’s in love with you, maybe more than he was back at school. I can’t imagine there’s much you might have learned abroad that would turn his head, now, is there?”

Luna smiled, and then said, thoughtfully, “I hope so. However, the last few days he has seemed very pleased that I learned to do this in Nepal…”

The young woman reached out one hand to her left foot, and extended her leg, and arm, rotating her hip, until her leg extended far up above her head, and she tucked it alongside her body, with her toes pointed to the ceiling and her knee more or less behind her ear. Her yellow wrap slid down, exposing a long expanse of pale skin, showing off Luna’s leg from pointed toes to very high on her inner thigh. Luna casually held the position while taking a sip of tea, and Ginny looked away quickly, her freckled face blushing scarlet to match her hair.

“Wow. Yes.” She stammered. “That is, er, impressive.”

“Do you think?” Luna sounded pleased. “I could teach you if you like. Putting both legs back behind your head is a little more difficult, but, well, let me show you.”

Ginny peeked and saw that Luna was casually undoing the tie on her wrap.

“No, that’s fine.” Ginny found herself perspiring despite the cool air in the flat. “I believe you!”

Luna paused and looked at Ginny with concern. “Oh, no. I’ve made you uncomfortable, haven’t I?”

“Uh, no, it’s not that,” Ginny said, wishing that Luna’s legs were not so exposed, or that at least her wrap was closed more tightly across her breasts, which suddenly seemed more prominent than Ginny remembered. The young witch’s skin seemed to have a pale but persistent glow, and Ginny was finding it all very distracting.

“I have never been able to judge what makes other people uncomfortable,” Luna lamented softly. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt your feelings.”

Ginny set aside her forgotten tea, and moved to kneel before Luna.

“No, listen,” Ginny said firmly. “You’re my friend, and I don’t want you to ever be worried about making me uncomfortable. If you ever cross the line, say something I find honestly offensive or to be a problem between us, I know it’s not meant to hurt me. I promise you we’ll talk about it. But you can never really hurt me if you’re just being honest. Friends accept each other for who they are.”

Luna looked at her, almost shyly, a rare expression on her face. “We are friends, then? I always thought we were.”

“Of course we’re friends.” Ginny smiled and opened her arms to offer the other woman a hug. “You were one of the only people I could talk to in school, about my feelings, you know.”

Luna took Ginny in her arms. Instead of a brief hug, the embrace was close and lingering. “This makes me happy, Ginny. I’ve wanted to hug you for a long time.”

Ginny turned, and found her face very close to Luna’s, and those large, blue-grey eyes were fathomless, deep, and she was falling into them. “Any time,” Ginny said softly. “You only had to ask.”

Luna didn’t pull back, but just regarded her lovingly, until Ginny gently pulled away. She felt a warmth in her stomach, slowly spreading through the rest of her body, that had nothing to do with tea.

“Thank you, Ginny,” Luna said with a small sigh. “I seem to find myself craving an unusually high level of physical attention recently. I very much enjoyed that.”

“Well, it was just a hug,” Ginny said, as if reassuring herself. “Any time.”

“That’s a lovely thought.” Luna slowly rose, gracefully. Apparently, her training in yoga disciplines had aided more than her impressive flexibility. She offered Ginny a hand, and the redheaded athlete sprang to her feet as well but found Luna still holding her hand.

She felt flustered in a way that Luna had never made her before. Not unpleasant, but certainly hyper-aware. The feel of Luna’s hand in hers, the lingering scent of Luna’s hair in her nose from their embrace, the slow tick of the clock in the hallway.

“So, I’d love to say hello to Neville,” Ginny said awkwardly. “Will he be home from work soon?”

“Not for an hour or more,” Luna said gently turning Ginny’s hand over in hers, and letting her thumb idly rub across Ginny’s palm. “I’m sure he’d be happy to see you as well. I shouldn’t tell, but ever since school, you were the one on his list.”

Ginny felt her body shiver with the feel of Luna’s touch on her palm, but forced her eyes open. “His list? How do you mean?”

Luna lowered her eyes, continuing to caress Ginny’s hand, not so lightly as to tickle, but gently, letting the heat from her hand slowly warm the flesh of Ginny’s. Ginny swallowed noisily.

“When Neville and I began dating, at Hogwarts. Neither of us had ever been with anyone else before, and I worried that he would miss out. So, I had him make a list, you see, of other witches he fancied. I told him that if the occasion arose, he should consider it an excellent opportunity, for learning, and that I could never be cross at him. He was terribly embarrassed and noble, you know how Neville can be, and wouldn’t pick anyone.”

“He wouldn’t?” Ginny could only believe that Luna was doing this to her on purpose, but exactly why she could not decide. Surely Luna didn’t want… The way she was talking about Neville… where was Neville? This would be an excellent time for him to come home early, so she could exchange greetings and be on her way. On her way back to her empty flat, and her empty bed. _Hecate’s hat,_ what else had Luna learned in Nepal?

“He finally picked you, the only witch on his list. Apparently, when he first met you, he had a bit of a crush. You can imagine, when you started seeing Susan, that this proved an impediment to his desires in your direction.”

“Yes, poor Neville,” Ginny gasped softly, as Luna’s thumb moved up to the pulse point in her wrist, rubbing in slow circles as they talked, still standing close together.

“But he insisted that you were the only one he would want on is list.” Luna’s voice, clear and low, was hypnotic, putting Ginny in a dreamy reverie. “And he was just as adamant that I make a list as well, of anyone at school I fancied, should the opportunity ever arise…”

“Whoa.” Ginny shook her head. “I mean, who? Who was on your list?”

Ginny thought of her brothers, stupid and useless as far as she was considered, but mostly funny, decent, and even lovable by a more objective witch’s standards. Harry Potter, of course, the great and good boy she had suffered her first crush on as a young girl. Lee Jordan. Terry Boot…

“Just you,” Luna said. Ginny’s eyes, which had closed against her will from the stimulation she was receiving from Luna’s fingertips, suddenly flew open.

“Me?”

“Yes. Other than Neville, you were the only one I ever really fancied at school. Or since, really.”

“But, Luna…” Ginny struggled for words, acutely aware of how close she and Luna were, how long they hand been standing, essentially hand in hand, and how very long it had been since anyone had really made her feel special, desired… or loved. “What about you and Neville?”

Luna took her free hand and brought it to Ginny’s face. She cupped her cheek, and explained softly. “Neville knows I love him very much. Nothing will ever change that. He also knows that you’ve been working very hard, and sounding very sad when he’s spoken to you. He knows that he would be working today. He knew that when he asked me to send you an owl and invite you round for tea.”

“Are you trying to say,” Ginny whispered, “that your boyfriend _wants_ you to…”

Luna leaned in, and kissed her gently on the lips, then, after a moment, again, more firmly. Luna pulled back, and Ginny felt Luna’s lips move as she spoke, so close were they.

“That line we talked about… have I just crossed it?”

Ginny thought, as much as she could with the emotions swirling around her at the moment, before she replied.

“Not crossed. I think we can see it from here, but not crossed it, no.”

Luna considered this, and then asked with a voice full of care and happiness, “Well, may I kiss you once more, and then we can sit, and have more tea? I think we have some biscuits—” 

She was cut off as Ginny pressed her lips to Luna’s, and after a moment, the taller, blonde witch’s lips opened, and the kiss deepened. For a breathless, urgent moment, they clung to one another, tasting each other’s lips, feeling the others heartbeats and trembling flesh, until the moment passed, and they pulled back.

Ginny sat down hard, just barely making it to the sofa. Luna stood for a moment longer, her lips parted, her eyes closed, hanging on the memory of their kiss. Then she smiled and opened her luminous eyes wide. 

“So,” she said brightly, “biscuits?”

When Neville arrived home, he took a moment to somewhat loudly come down the hall, and made a great deal of business with his keys, before opening the door.

Luna was sitting in a chair, a small charmed orb of light over her shoulder, as she read a book on magical creatures of the American Great Lakes, an old favorite of her father’s. She smiled at Neville and called out to him cheerfully.

“No need for warnings, my love. But thank you.” She rose and moved to pull him down for a kiss. “You're very thoughtful.”

He looked around the flat, and then arched an eyebrow, looking down at his lover’s beaming smile. “So, I take it you and Ginny had a nice day?”

“Oh, it was wonderful.” Luna took him by the hand and began pulling him towards the bedroom. “We had tea. I introduced her to the rooibos and grudyroot, I think she enjoyed it.”

As they moved towards, the bed, Luna shrugged her shoulders, letting her bright yellow wrap fall to the floor, and revealing her lovely naked form to his appreciative eyes. He began pulling at his own clothes, frustrated by their pointless complication and redundancy when what he really wanted, right now, was to be naked with Luna this very moment.

She turned to face him and relieved him of his trousers as he kicked his shoes away. He kicked out of his socks, and they stood toe to toe, both completely nude. He reached down and caught her around the waist. Her arms went around his neck, and her legs came up to wrap around him, her ankles crossing across his surprisingly muscular arse. His hands shifted, cradling her beautiful bum and pulling her even closer against him.

“And how did the, er, talk go? As you hoped?” He began to kiss her neck and shoulder. She leaned into it, reveling in the feel of his lips on her skin.

“Oh, so lovely,” she sighed. “And yes, the talk went well, better than I hoped.”

He heaved her carefully but playfully onto the bed, and she bounced from the height, laughing, her hair fanning out across the pillows.

“I see,” he said crawling towards her on all fours along the large mattress, his dark hair, his beautiful eyes, and his hairy chest making him seem almost werewolf-like. He growled in his throat and snapped his teeth at her.

“Oh, the big bad Neville has come to eat me!” she shrieked in mock terror.

“Not until you tell me how the rest of your day went, Little Girl,” he growled, holding back.

“We talked. She held me. We kissed. We talked about your list… and mine.”

“Is that all?” Neville honestly didn’t care if Luna found some affection and comfort in the arms of their friend. He loved her more than he could express, and her love for him was boundless, beyond any measure. More than anything, he wanted her to be happy. Besides, she was here now, in his bed, carrying his child, and loving him. His life was very good.

“Mostly all. Oh, and I kissed her goodbye as well. She said she enjoyed herself. I think she needs time, in her own relationship, to decide if she wants more.”

“That seems fair,” Neville said agreeably, then lowered his mouth to Luna, and began making growling, nipping attacks on her as she squealed in joy.

“Oh, and she was intrigued, she said, that she was still on _your_ list…”

Neville sat up, his face comically shocked. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said, “Come again?”

“Not nearly,” she said, and she pulled his mouth back to her. “Can we discuss this after?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the story from which this descends, Ginny Weasley began a long-running relationship with Susan Bones early in her time at Hogwarts. The extent of her current relationship is unclear at this point...


End file.
